Sauron's Fear
by Windimere Wellen
Summary: A brief look at how Sauron feels about Isildur's Heir and how Aragorn avoided notice of Sauron for so long. Stand alone story....def fininshed. Please review :)
1. Sauron's Fear

Crazy. I reworked the story! Woohoo! Like I said before, this was my first piece that I ever did for LOTR. I liked the story a lot so I went back and reworked it. Only the first chapter has been changed, I will get to the second chapter soon, no worries. I will then post the original story, previously called Isildur's Heir as chapters 3 and 4. Thanks so much for the feedback! I hope the reworking proves worthy. Thanks!  
  
With every breath fiber of his being, he hated the one so aptly called the Heir of Isildur. Through the passage of time, there has been many that had walked the ground of Middle Earth that had borne the title of the heir. Sauron had not hated only Isildur, the meddling creature that had caused his most precious ring to be taken from him, nor had he only hated the woman that had bore Isildur a child, but all of the heirs that had followed. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.  
  
Sauron's fiery eye penetrated the world as his dark thoughts turned to the vivid memory of the stories and prophecies that surrounded Elendil's line of kings. The fate of the Kings of men was interlaced with Isildur's Bane, the one ring. Sauron's entire evil existence easily shuddered in anticipation of merely touching that ring, that ring that was so unfortunately tied to Isildur's Heir by fate of the ages. That cursed heir would no doubt attempt to right the failure that his forefather had so deftly created. Sauron's raking gaze swept across Middle Earth again, searching for the elusive source of Sauron's discomfort. The question remained - was there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook his dark and foreboding palace. Of course there was.  
  
The Nazgul, the dark former kings had thus far been faithful servants to their dark master. Their job had been done well when Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, the most important task being that they destroy the line of Isildur. He had not wanted to deal with the dangerous heir that prophecy said would come to guide all of Gondor. To do that, the heir would have to destroy the ring and Sauron himself. Sauron had always thought that the ringwraiths were fearless, neither living nor dead, but he had found that even they feared the heir of Isildur. Despite the fear, they remained true to their tasks and killed each heir that had been born. It was an unguarded moment when Sauron discovered the source of their fear.  
  
The Nazgul spoke of strong, lithe young men, bound with a strange and special strength. Each sword they bore seemed to be enchanted and each swordsman swung that same sword with skill and confidence. Even these attributes the Nazgul would look past, but there was something more that frightened them. For some time, Sauron could only believe that the fear was an unrealistic cover for the fact that the Nazgul had doubt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. His point of view changed abruptly one day when he had heard them speak with shudders about the heir of death that was about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul had remarked with cold shivers that the depth and strength that were in those eyes was something cursed. Sauron easily remembered that they had said each heir had the same eyes, eyes that taunted and portrayed the threat of destruction. Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. What did he fear? Was it a truth that an heir did indeed live?  
  
With fleeting thoughts, Sauron remembered the line of Isildur. The Nazgul had been successful in destroying each and every heir thus far. There had certainly been moments when the battle against it had looked hopeless, but then there were moments when it seemed hardly to matter. Sauron was frustrated with the mere truth that while it seemed that the Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and to protect those children from being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the Wraiths and carried their children to safety where they were to be raised, often in secret until they were old enough. It took great time to locate a now grown heir, which caused Sauron more anger. It had seemed such a relief when the Nazgul had discovered Arathorn the last known heir, and Sauron stopped to believe that he had won.  
  
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilraen, however, for the longest time, it was certainly believed she had not borne Arathorn a son. Arathorn had been a Ranger in the North and was rarely with his wife. They had not been married all that long when the Nazgul had come upon Arathorn and had set orcs upon him. The orcs had killed Arathorn and his companions in a small blood bath. The Nazgul had then meant to destroy Gilraen, but she was faster than they and fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half elven of Imladris, and his twin sons Elrohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron then that Gilraen had left empty handed, with no child and Sauron easily let himself believe that at last he was rid of his greatest enemy.  
  
Time passed quickly for Sauron and he did not give another thought to the demise of the line of Isildur until the moment when he thought he might have been wrong. Nearly twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had seen Arathorn slain, but there was a strange day that spoke of ill tidings. He was still gathering darkness about him in that time, his confidence ever growing. It was shaken in one brief moment. Sauron had dared to reach out even around the strongholds of the elves and he searched about Imladris. During this time, the day came when he found himself drawing back momentarily as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron was not aquatinted with, surely not an elf - and this thing nearly blinded him. It was an unetheral light and it disturbed Sauron for some time, but this too passed from his mind and he never remembered the heir of Isildur. However, the lack of memory would not last forever. Sauron reflected on this bitterly, wondering how he so easily looked over the signs. Indeed, there had been many signs that he had merely dismissed. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated an strangely strong Ranger who had come into leadership out of nowhere and roamed where he pleased, spending too much time in the company of the wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious yet was the fact that absolutely none of his informants could tell us where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in the affairs of Middle Earth when he had come to the age of twenty. Looking back on it, some sort of warning should have come before Sauron when he had learned of this curious, yet elusive Ranger, who spoke elvish, used elven swords, and moved in the ways of an elf.  
  
When Sauron started searching more diligently for the ring, he felt some kind of deep foreboding and in rare moments he had flashes of the image of the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from Sauron's hand. Sauron would shake the thought away, reminding himself that that the sword was broken and would remain that way. Doubt then crept in, especially when Boromir, the son of Denethor who was steward of Gondor and sat on her throne, set out to answer a riddle or a poem of sorts. Sauron's spies brought him news of this poem and the words were chilling.  
  
Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Mogul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halflings forth shall stand.  
  
The poem was enough to inspire Sauron to redouble the effort to find the ring and he sent searchers to find where the broken sword truly had disappeared to. The report was dark for Sauron - the sword did indeed lay in Imladris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would wield a broken sword? Sauron knew there was only one answer, the true heir of Isildur who would try to destroy what Sauron had built. Still, Sauron did not want to believe that an heir possibly could have survived, at least not until he had proof.  
  
Finally, the ring came to it's master's attention, and Sauron found that it was being carried by a halfling - a hobbit. The Nazgul left to intercept the small creature and its companions, but Sauron was disturbed when they disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring called for him from the top of Weathertop within a short time and the Nazgul were there to do the bidding of their master. Sauron waited eagerly, feeling that he was about to have back what was most precious to him. The Nazgul returned empty handed, having been beat and torn with quite a tale that disturbed the dark lord. The Nazgul pitifully told that they had indeed wounded the hobbit that had been carrying the ring, but what came next was something that created great fear in the dark wraiths. His anger flared, and he demanded to know why they had failed, but their answer was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes with no compassion. He might have destroyed them and they were afraid. Apparently he had set fire tot hem. Sauron was bitter and did not want to believe what his trusted servants told him. Could the heir of Isildur truly be alive? He questioned them to observe if they were certain. Their reply was cold and they affirmed that they were sure, but beyond having seen the eyes, they had no other proof.  
  
Sauron's anger burned, disbelieving that not only had the ring slipped away, but also a possible heir had passed far below his notice. He dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at any cost and if the dark Ranger got in the way, they were to kill him, heir or not. His fury grew as the cursed Ranger distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a tenacious she- elf. The Nazgul had given chase, but the troublesome she-elf had used the magic of her people against them. Sauron had an ill feeling that she yet had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell, out of Sauron's reach. The evil lord's mood continued to deteriorate when Sauraman the White, a sadly corrupted wizard sent a message bearing a song with ill words to Baradur. The song had been carried all the way from the borders of Rivendell where it seemed to float on the breeze, sung by Bilbo Baggins. Sauron's orcs cowered in misery as Sauron's anger once again shook the palace. The song was simple, but it bode ill for Sauron and his beloved ring.  
  
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
  
From the ashes of fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows will spring; Renewed shall be the blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.  
  
The Ranger! Not all those who wander are lost! The heir of Isildur had been right under Sauron's notice the entire time. Knowing now that the Heir of Isildur lived, Sauron vowed to kill him and have his ring back. Even with those brave words, Sauron newly felt empty and unsure as he hadn't felt in some time. 


	2. Aragorn's Life in Brief

Had Sauron know the real truth about the existence of Isildur's Heir, his frustration would have met an unparalleled high. The truth was that when Elrond had arrived in accordance with Gilraen's plea for help, he had been of great to help her. Gently he had told her to empty out a chest that had once belonged to Arathorn. In that chest they placed the sleeping Aragorn, not yet even two years old, on a rich red robe that had belonged to one of his ancestors. They had closed the chest and secured it on the wagon as if it was nothing more than mere baggage and the boy slept there comfortably under and elven spell all the way into the safety of Rivendell, successfully fooling the watching Nazgul into believer that a child had never existed. Once in Rivendell, Elrond took the boy, whom he called Estel, or hope, and raised the child as his own son. The elf twins, now the heir's brothers, helped to raise the boy in the elven way. Estel learned and grew quickly, as human children tended to. He spoke in the elven speech and hunted and moved in their ways as he was taught.  
  
Elrond was careful to hide Estel's true lineage from him, knowing the results if he did otherwise could be tragic. The boy was led to believe that he was indeed human, but that Elrond was indeed his Ada. Elrond regretted only that the boy did know he was not elven and was confused as to the truth of his real father. It was clear to see that Estel longed to know about his father from the day that some of the elf children cruelly pointed out that he was not an elf like his brothers or his father. Elrond's heart had been torn the and Gilraen had cried when the boy had firmly questioned her as to who he was and where he had really come from. Elrond could not answer the boy truthfully, but told him merely that he was more elf than he thought. After all, the boy was descended from Luthien herself, though he did not need to know that lest he discover the truth in his curious and unrelenting ways.  
  
The boy grew strong and his skills as a swordsman and a tracker were almost as good as that of a real elf when he entered into his adolescent years. Elrond had long since realized that his time with Estel was growing short and that Estel was indeed fast approaching the time when he must be told the truth about his ancestry. This was something that Elrond both looked forward to and feared, knowing well that with no doubt Estel would accept his lineage and be proud, but the truth would take the boy Elrond had learned to love as a son away from Rivendell and thrust him into great danger. When Estel reached his twentieth year, Elrond felt he could put the task off no longer, especially when Aragorn had by chance stumbled across Arwen, Elrond's beautiful daughter, the Evenstar of the Elves.  
  
Estel fell immediately in love with the beautiful creature and it consumed his thoughts. Elrond, with the watchful eyes of the great elven lords, was grieved for the air seemed to sing of his love for her. It was then that Elrond feared that his daughter would never cross the sea with him. This was a thought that he could not bear. It was not long when Estel came to his father asked him for permission to marry Arwen. At that moment, Elrond told Estel, whom he now proudly called Aragorn the son of Arathorn, the whole truth.  
  
Estel had stared blankly at Elrond at first and slowly the Elf lord reminded the man of the reason why the story of Isildur had been taught to him from such a young age and with such detail. Aragorn was, to say the least, shocked. However, he did not argue or question, nor could Elrond detect any doubt in his foster son's shining gray eyes. He only asked, "Father, what do I have to do?" Elrond had sighed heavily as if the weight of all of his years and the sadness of the state of affairs had finally come up on him. He bid that Estel, correcting himself to call the beloved child Aragorn, to sit. Explaining slowly to the handsome young man, Elrond told him of his fate, promising him that when the time came, he would someday sit on the throne of Gondor in the White City, Minas Tirith. Elrond then promised Aragorn that on that occasion, he would promise to give the man Arwen's hand in marriage, while hoping that Arwen would never return the same feelings that Aragorn felt for her.  
  
Aragorn, newly burdened with truth, spent two full days wandering the wood of Imladris, lost deep in thought, while Gilraen waited for him, fearful of where her son's thoughts would guide him. She knew well that the chance was great that his decision would take him far away from her. Gilraen, with the nobility to have been a queen, had intuition to match and she was quite right, for when Aragorn returned, he was determined to leave Rivendell. He had decided to join his father's people in the North, the Rangers, the Dunedan. With great conviction, he felt that not only would Arathorn, his blood father, have wanted this, but also his beloved Ada, Elrond, would also approve.  
  
Aragorn son of Arathorn, also known as Estel, left Rivendell with very little but a horse, given to him by Lord Elrond, a sword forged as a gift by his brothers, an elven cloak, and finally a smile from Arwen and a kiss on the forehead from his mother. Estel rode away from his childhood home, the place he loved, not even stopping to look back. His heart yearned to stay there with his mother, with his beloved brothers and kind father, and most of all his heart cried out for Arwen, but fate called and tugged at his conscious. The Heir of Isildur rode high, and as Elrond watched his departing son with great sadness, he could not help but think that the boy looked just as Isildur had, riding proudly to battle with ranks of men behind him.  
  
Many a year passed, yet Aragorn remained in the wilderness, learning the ways of the world and leading the elusive Rangers of the North. The Rangers, who seemed to have readily parted their coveted ranks, sent Aragorn all the way to the front to lead them without argument or question. The wisest knew that they stood in the company of a man who was destined to be king. It was a happy day when Aragorn, known among the elves still as Estel, but Strider to the Rangers, came to the aid of a certain wizard who was fighting off wargs on a dark and exceptionally rainy night. The two made quick work of the wargs and Aragorn came into the acquiantance of Gandalf the Grey. For his part, Gandalf knew from the moment his eyes came to rest on the dark, weather troddenyoung man, that this was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the Heir of Isildur. In that very moment, the truth was made clear to Gandalf that evil was indeed gathering again and there would be no future Heir to look to that would right the folly of Isildur. The young Ranger in his company would be the one who would assure that the ring was destroyed, despite the cost, and see Sauron defeated. Soon enough, the two became fast friends and Aragorn was often embroiled in whatever trouble Gandalf was mixed up in.  
  
Aragorn traveled far and wide, even into his lands of Gondor and the lands of Rohan, which were the lands of his ancestors. There he went by the name of Thorongil and served under Thengel of Rohan and EcthelionII, the steward of Gondor. The years seemed to dissapear quickly and Aragorn's visits to Rivendell were rare. When he was there he would spend the time in company of his brothers and fathers, never ceasing to search for Arwen Undomiel, but she had returned to Lorien where she stayed with her grandmother. Chance smiled at Aragorn, and one of his many duties carried him to the fair land of Lorien, where he once again stood face to face with the Lady Arwen. In the time that had passed since their first meeting, Arwen had found, much to her surprise, that she cared deeply for Aragorn, more deeply than she had cared for anyone before. On the top of Cerin Amroth, they pledged to each other their love for the rest of time. Aragorn gave her Barahir's ring and Arwen was pleased to promise him that she would bind herself to him, no matter the cost, forsaking her immortality to be with him forever.  
  
Aragorn's duties once more took him from his beloved and he continued in the ways of a Ranger. Aragorn was a mysterious character, wandering, doing good, but trusted by few, as all the Rangers were. He was known by many names, but the people called him Strider, givenin evidence of his long legs and powerful stride. Few had bothered to make the mistake of crossing the curious Ranger after a short, yet remarkable altercation at the inn, The Prancing Pony, in Bree. From that time, the story of a tall, dark Ranger who could dispatch five strong opponents in a brief time on his own spread like wildfire through the provinces, and most would cower from him when he was in sight and tell stories that might have even been true about the Ranger known only to them as Strider. Aragorn little minded this and was indeed amused by it. The more traveling he did, the more he learned of the world and how far Sauron's fare reaching claws of treachery had darkened the land. He soon grew care worn, but in brief unobserved moments, he would smile and there stood the man, or exactly, the future King of Gondor, standing proud and looking serenely about.  
  
The times grew dark and the day came when Gandalf sent word to Aragorn by way of a bird that he had discovered the One Ring at the home of a hobbit named Frodo in the shire. Aragorn had at first been crushed, realizing that his fate and destiny had finally come. Strider's destiny plauged him, his identity confirming that he was indeed of noble heritage and that most of his ancestors had done well, but he feared Isildur's folly with the ring. He feared how he would handle the ring, afraid that he would be no better than Isildur. The thought of failure such as Isildur's would kill him, and he knew the same blood ran through his veins. When he had spoken of this to Arwen, she had assured him that he should not worry, but only her words could not keep the king from doing that very thing. None the less, he set out eagerly to help Gandalf in whatever capacity he could, and it was lucky for all involved that he had. He found the hobbits alone in the town of Bree and rescued them from the dreadful Nazgul. Aragorn hated those black riders and feared their evil presence, but he was not afraid to fight them. He led the hobbits away from Bree, doing what he did best as he led them through the wilderness. The face that the hobbit Frodo had the one ring made Aragorn somewhat nervous. It was such a small piece of metal that so much of his destiny seemed tied to.  
  
After their arrival at Weathertop, Aragorn had left the hobbits to scout and looking back, he had cursed himself throuroughly for the mistake. He had carried Frodo with a heavy heart, praying that they would reach Rivendell in time for Lord Elrond to put his healing touch on the young hobbit. As the Nazgul drew closer to them, Frodo's condition worsened at the poisoning of the morgul blade. Though he knew he could not heal Frodo, out of desperation, Aragorn sought the king's foil plant and was indeed caught off his guard. He would never forget the cold steel resting under his chin an the light voice of the most beautiful creature in the whole of Middle Earth mocking him gently - indeed, a ranger caugth off his guard. Letting Arwen go and take Frodo was one of the hardest decisions that Aragorn had ever had to make, placing Frodo out of his control and Arwen into harms way. He was risking all that he held dear. He could not hold her back and so he did what he could to give her time and she rode harder than she ever had before. In the end, she had indeed been right and there in Rivendell, only two short days later, they were all safe, resting and alive. Aragorn had wished only that they could have stayed long, but destiny would not wait.  
  
Thus, Aragorn left Rivendell once again, having pledged himself to protect Frodo at all costs and he carried with him a part of his Evenstar, a parting gift, her namesake necklace and the promise of her bind to him. The Fellowship was relying on him and he would not let them down. After all, he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, future King of Gondor, and the heir of Isildur. 


	3. Old Chapter 1Sauron's Anger

This was the first fanfic I ever wrote for LOTR and it got lost on ff.net. I decided to repost it...I would love some feedback, just to see if it makes any sense. Hope its enjoyable!  
  
I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Tolkien and Jackson. The second chapter will have a mix of the books and the movies if that clears anything up.  
  
I would love some feedback, thanks!  
  
He hated the one called the Heir of Isildur with every fiber of what he was. Through time, since Isildur's death, many of his heirs had walked through Middle Earth. Sauron had not hated just Isildur, or the child his wife bore, but all of the heirs. The heir of Isildur was his greatest enemy, the greatest threat to Sauron ruling Middle Earth.  
  
Sauron's eye penetrated the world as his thoughts turned dark with memories of the stories and prophecies that belonged to Elendil's line of kings. Isildur's Bane, the ring. Sauron's existence shuddered in anticipation of that ring.that ring was tied to Isildur's Heir by fate. That cursed heir would try to right the failure his forefathers had created. Sauron continued to rake Middle Earth with a fiery gaze. But is there a current heir? Sauron let out a growl that shook the dark palace. Of course there is.  
  
The Nazgul were his faithful servants and had done their jobs well. Sauron had assigned them with many tasks, one of the more important being the task of destroying the line of heirs. He had always supposed them fearless, for they were wraiths, neither living nor dead, but he found that they feared every single heir of Isildur. The sill remained true to their tasks and killed each heir. In unguarded moments, Sauron discovered the source of their fear and he found himself surprised.  
  
The Nazgul spoke of strong, lithe young men, bound with a strange and special strength. Each sword they bore seemed to be enchanted and each swordsman swung that same sword with skill and confidence. However, this was not what scared the wraiths the most. For some time, Sauron believed that the fear was just a false covering for the doubt the Nazgul felt about killing these young men of a race and freedom that they had once belonged to. Sauron decided he was wrong though, for on one occasion he heard them speak with shudders and an air of death about the eyes of the heir. Each heir apparently had cold gray eyes and the Nazgul shuddered at the depths and strength the eyes held. They said that each hair has the same eyes, eyes that taunt and portray the threat of destruction.my destruction! Sauron's anger flared again and if he could have thrown something, he would have. But what do I fear? Is it for sure? Is he the heir?  
  
Sauron thought back along the lines of Isildur. The Nazgul had been fairly successful in destroying the heirs thus far. There were moments that it had looked hopeless, and moments when they were of no concern to Sauron. What frustrated Sauron was despite the fact that each Heir of Isildur seemed to be cursed to die, it seemed that the women who loved these men were blessed to bear children and protect those children form being discovered and killed. These women, brave as they were, survived the wraiths and carried their children to be raised, often in secret until a certain age. It took great time to locate a now grown heir. This greatly angered Sauron, but when his Nazgul had come upon Arathorn, the last known heir, Sauron finally believed that he had won.  
  
Arathorn had taken a wife and Sauron was sure her name had been Gilrain, however, for the longest time, it was certainly believed she had not borne Arathorn a son. Arathorn had been a Ranger in the North and was rarely with his wife. They had not been married all that long when the Nazgul had come upon Arathorn and killed him. They also meant to destroy Gilrain, but she fled in the company of Lord Elrond, the half-elven, and his twin sons Elohir and Elladan. They had assured Sauron that Gilrain had not left with a child and Sauron thought that at last he was rid of his greatest fear.  
  
However, Sauron found out that he might have been worn, and just the memory caused Sauron another growl. Almost twenty years had passed since the Nazgul had slain Arathorn and Sauron would not forget that time. He was still gathering darkness bout him at that time, his confidence clear and strong. This was shaken in a brief moment. While gathering dark things about himself, Sauron even reached out around the strongholds of the elves. As Sauron searched about Imladris, he withdrew as if severely burned, for out of the woods rode something - something that Sauron had no idea what exactly what it was, surely not an elf - nearly blinded him. This disturbed Sauron at first, but it later passed from his mind and once again he forgot about the Heir of Isildur. This was not to last forever, Sauron reflected bitterly. How I could have overlooked the signs is beyond me. Indeed, there had been signs. Annoying rumors of a very dedicated and strong Ranger who had come into leadership and roamed all over Middle Earth, spending much time in the company of the Wizard Gandalf the Grey. More suspicious was the fact that no one knew where the Ranger had come from, only appearing in affairs when he had come to be twenty years old. Some sort of warning should have sounded within Sauron when he had learned that this curious yet elusive Ranger spoke elvish, used an elvish sword, and moved in the ways of an elf.  
  
When Sauron stepped up his search for the ring, he had felt a dark and deep foreboding and there were moments when he could picture the sword - Elendil's sword - that Isildur had used to cut the ring from his own hand. The sword is broken.hissed Sauron's voice in his mind. However, Sauron began to doubt. A dark fear crept into Sauron's mind when Boromir, son of Denethor of the throne of Gondor, set out to answer a certain riddle. Sauron's spies brought him news of the riddle, a poem of sorts.  
  
Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Mogul-spells. There shall be shown a token  
  
That Doom is near at hand  
  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halflings forth shall stand.  
  
The poem caused Sauron to redouble his search for the rin and to send our searchers to find where the broken sword was. The report was dark - the sword lay in Imadris, in the blissful city of Rivendell. Who would weild the sword? Sauron knew the answer: only the Heir of Isildur. Still, Sauron refused to believe there was an Heir, not until he had proof.  
  
The ring soon captured Sauron's attention, it was being carried by a hobbit. The Nazgul were sent out and Sauron became more disturbed when the hobbits merely disappeared from the town of Bree. The ring screamed to him from Weathertop and the Nazgul moved in. Sauron waited for news. His Nazgul returned empty handed, being beat and torn. They reported their successful wounding of the hobbit, but Sauron could plainly see how they shook in some fear. He was angry as to why they had not returned with the ring. Their reply was simple. He was there. They had seen the eyes. Cold, gray eyes. He might have destroyed them, and they were afraid. Sauron was bitter. Was it truly the Heir of Isildur? Are you positive? They were, but could not really tell Sauron why, except they had seen the eyes.  
  
Angry about them letting the ring slip away and news of a possible Heir that had passed below his notice, Sauron dispatched the Nazgul with orders to capture the ring at all costs and if the dark stranger got in the way, they were to kill him, Heir of not. Sauron's anger grew when the stranger, that cursed Ranger, distracted the wraiths until they discovered that the hobbit bearing the ring had been carried away by a she-elf. The wraiths had given chase, but the she-elf had used her magic against them. Sauron had a terrible feeling she had a part to play in the future. Now the ring and the Ranger were safely in Rivendell. Sauron's mood continued to flare with anger when Sauraman the White, the sadly corrupted wizard sent a messenger bearing an ill song. The son had been carried all the way from the borders of Rivendell where it seemed to float on the breeze, sung by Bilbo Baggins. Sauron's orcs cowered in misery as Sauron's anger once again shook the palace. The song was simple, but it bode ill for Sauron and his beloved ring.  
  
All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
  
From the ashes of fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows will spring; Renewed shall be the blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.  
  
The Ranger! Not all those who wander are lost! He was right under my nose the whole time! So the Heir of Isildur lives. I will kill him and I will have my ring back. But, despite those brave words, Sauron felt empty and shaken. 


	4. Old Chapter 2Aragorn's life

This is the second chapter of the old version.  
  
Sauron's anger would have continued to grow if he had known the whole truth. The truth being that when Elrond had arrived to rescue Gilrain, he had told her to empty out a chest. In that chest they had placed the sleeping Aragorn, not yet even two years old, on a rich red robe that had belonged to one of his ancestors. They had closed the chest and loaded it on the wagon as if it were nothing more than baggage and the boy slept there comfortably under an elven spell all the way into the safety of Rivendell, there-bye fooling the watchful Nazgul into believe there was never even a child. Once in Rivendell, Elrond took the boy, whom he called Estel and raised the child as his own son and the elf twins, now the Heir's brothers, taught him the ways of an elf. Estel learned and grew quickly. He spoke in an elven tongue and hunted and moved in their ways. Elrond hid Estel's true lineage from him, regretting only that the boy was confused about the truth of his father. It was clear to see that Estel longed to know about his father from the day some elf children cruelly pointed out that he was not an elf like his brothers or his father. Elrond had been torn then and Gilrain had cried when the boy had questioned who he was and where he had come from. Elrond could not answer the boy, telling him merely that he was more elf than he thought. After all, he was descended from Luthien herself, though he did not need to know that, lest he discover his true ancestry.  
  
The boy grew strong and his skills as a swordsman and tracker were almost as good as that of a real elf. Elrond had long since realized that Estel was fast approaching the time when he must be told the truth. This was something Elrond looked forward to and feared, for no doubt Estel would accept his lineage and be proud, but the truth would take him from Rivendell and thrust him into great danger. Estel had finally reached his twentieth year and Elrond felt it was time, especially when Estel stumbled across Arwen, Elrond's unexplainably beautiful daughter, the Evenstar of the elves. Estel fell immediately in love with her. Elrond was grieved, for the air seemed to sing of his love and even at that moment, Elrond knew his daughter would never cross the sea with him. This was a thought he could not bear, and when Estel came to ask Elrond for permission to marry Arwen, Elrond told Estel, who he now proudly called Aragorn son of Arathorn, the whole truth, gently reminding him of the reason why the story of Isildur had been taught to him from such a young age. Aragorn was, to say the least, shocked. However, there was no doubt or argument on his part. He only asked Elrond, "Father.what do I have to do?" Elrond had sighed heavily, as if overcome by a great burden and sadness, and bid Estel.no.Aragorn to sit. Elrond explained to the hansom young human what his fate was, to the best of his ability, promising Aragorn that when the time came that he took his place on the throne of Gondor in the White City, Elrond would give him Arwen's hand in marriage, secretly hoping that Arwen would never return feelings to Aragorn.  
  
Aragorn spent two days wandering Imladris and thinking, while Gilrain waited for him, fearful of where his thoughts would take him, well knowing that they would most likely take him far away from her. Gilrain's intuition proved to be true, for when Aragorn returned, he was determined to leave Rivendell and join his father's people in the North, the Rangers. He felt this was what not only his blood father would have wanted, but also what Elrond would surely approve of.  
  
Aragorn son of Arathorn, also known as Estel, left Rivendell with very little but a horse, given to him by Lord Elrond, a sword forged as a gift by his brothers, an elven cloak, and finally a smile from Arwen and a kiss on the forehead from his mother. Estel rode away from his childhood home, the place he loved, not even stopping to look back. His heart yearned to stay there with his mother, with his beloved brothers and kind father, and most of all his heart cried out for Arwen, but fate called and tugged at his conscious. The Heir of Isildur rode high, little knowing how much he must have looked like Isildur himself would have, riding on his own horse years ago.  
  
For years, Aragorn wandered the wilderness, leading the Rangers who seemed to have parted their ranks, sending Aragorn all the way to the front to lead them without argument or question. It was a happy day when Aragorn, known among the elves sill as Estel, but also as Dunadan to the Rangers, came to the aid of a wizard fighting off wargs on a dark and exceptionally rainy night. The two of them made quick work of the wargs and Aragorn came into the acquaintance of Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf knew from the moment he laid eyes on the dark, weather trodden young man that this was Aragorn son of Arathorn, Heir of Isildur. In that moment, it became clear to Gandalf that evil was indeed gathering again and there would not be a future Heir that would right Isildur's folly. This was the man who would see that no matter what the one ring was destroyed and Sauron defeated. The two of them became fast friends and Aragorn soon became embroiled in whatever Gandalf had up his sleeve. Aragorn traveled far and wide, even to Gondor and Rohan, the lands of his ancestors. There he went by the name Thorongil and served both Thengel of Rohan and Ecthelion II of Gondor. The years passed quickly and there were rare visits to Rivendell where Aragorn searched each time for his brothers and even for Arwen, but she had returned to Lorien where she stayed with her grandmother. Chance had it that one of Aragorn's many missions carried him there, to Lorien, where he once again stood face to face with Arwen. Arwen had found, much to her surprise, that she cared deeply for Aragorn, and on the top of Cerin Amroth they pledged their love for each other, Aragorn giving her Barahir's ring. There, Arwen promised him that she would bind herself to him, no matter what, forsaking her immortality to be with him forever.  
  
Aragorn was a mysterious character as he wandered, doing good, but trusted by few. He was known by many names, the most popular being Strider, given in evidence of his long legs and powerful stride. Few had made the mistake of crossing him though after a short yet remarkable altercation at an inn, The Prancing Pony, in Bree. From that moment on, the story of a tall, dark Ranger who could dispatch five strong foes in such a short time all by himself spread like wildfire and few bothered to do anything but cower from him when he was in sight and tell of stories that might have even been true about the Ranger known only to them as Strider. Aragorn little minded this and was more amused as he learned about the world and Sauron's far reaching claws of darkness. He grew care worn, but in rare moments, he smiled and there was the man, or exactly the future King of Gondor, standing proud and looking serenely about.  
  
Gandalf had sent word to him by way of a bird when he had discovered the ring at Frodo's house and Aragorn had been crushed, for his time had come. Strider had struggled greatly with his identity, proud that he was indeed of noble heritage and the work of many of his ancestors had been good, but he feared Isildur's folly with the ring. Most of all he feared how he would handle the ring. He was afraid that just as Isildur had failed, he would too, for the same blood ran in his veins. Often Arwen had assured him that he should not worry, but it did not keep the king that would be from that very thing. He set out to help Gandalf in any way he could and it was lucky that he did, for he found the hobbits alone in Bree and rescued them from the Nazgul. Aragorn hated the black riders and feared their evil, but was not afraid to face them. He led the hobbits as best he could, somewhat nervous about the fact that Frodo carried the ring, that small piece of metal that so much of his destiny seemed to be tied to.  
  
Aragorn cursed himself for his mistake at Weathertop, knowing full well that he never should have left the hobbits there alone. He carried Frodo on with a heavy heart, praying that he would reach Rivendell in time. Frodo grew worse and the Nazgul drew closer. In desperation, Aragorn sought the king's foil plant and was indeed caught off his guard. He would never forget the cold steel resting under his chin and the light voice of the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth mocking him gently.indeed, a ranger caught off his guard. Letting her go and take Frodo was one of the hardest decisions he ever had to make, placing Frodo out of his control and risking Arwen, all that he held dear. So he did what he could to give her time and she rode hard. In the end, she had been right and there in Rivendell, only two day later, they were all safe, resting and breathing. Aragorn wished he could rest and relax once there, but he knew that it was impossible for there was more to come. 


End file.
